


Knife and Cup

by felicia_angel



Series: The Priest and the Pagan God [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: I cannot take the blame for that pun, M/M, Not A Lot Of Plot, Pagan Gods, Porn With Plot, bottom!wesker, god!Chris, holding on for "deer" life, priest!Wesker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 13:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicia_angel/pseuds/felicia_angel
Summary: Arriving at a far off, small old church, Father Albert Wesker meets an odd person who apparently is a local god. One who is not exactly shy about what he wants.





	Knife and Cup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pelissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelissa/gifts), [lionofwrath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofwrath/gifts).



> For Pelissa, and all the fun people at her discord, who totally are at fault for this.
> 
> ...they encouraged me. I shouldn't blame them, I'm the one who wrote this.

The church is old, obviously constructed back in the day where pagan images and filth adorned the walls of the outside. Father Albert Wesker frowns when he sees something that vaguely looks like someone opening up a vulva, and then back to the huge, solid doors. He honestly wishes that he’d guarded himself more, or else he wouldn’t have ended up here. Still, at least this place is far away, and he can keep his books, his tools, and the various things that his old bishop claimed to have been ‘witchcraft’. At least he got a promise from Will that the man would not be around longer than necessary.

He walks into the old church, examining the area thoroughly before going to the back offices and small room where he’ll live. He sets his bags down, making sure his instruments haven’t been broken and are hidden well enough, before walking out to start getting various items set up.

When he walks back out to the main worship hall to see what items were under the altar, and what he might need to get from the larger church a day’s trip from here, he pauses when he sees someone at the threshold, looking in and examining the doors. He’s wearing simple peasant garb, though dressed more like one who lives near the wooded area he’s been warned against going into for fear of ‘fae’. His chest is bared, showing sun-darkened skin and defined muscles, a buckskin around his shoulders and similar, dark pants around his legs, though his feet are bare and seem to have some twigs caught between his toes. His hair is dark, despite his own tanned skin, and a bit wild, as if mussed, and bits of leaves seem to be placed in his hair.

Wesker frowns. He recognizes those leaves. He’d passed a tree with them - one of the few in the county - and accidentally startled some hunters attempted to get a buck half-caught there as he raked his antlers against the bark. The thing was quite handsome, and the men had cursed Wesker for their ill luck in capturing it.

_ Well, perhaps the township has a similar tree. _

“Can I help you?”

His voice gets the young man to turn his head slowly, almost imperiously, and makes Wesker stand straighter, not about to be intimidated in his domain, new as he is to the place. He realizes the man is nearly as tall as he is, and Wesker is considered quite tall. His eyes are odd, seeming to be a blue-brown that don’t quite settle - perhaps a trick of the light - and his face, though curious in a way Wesker cannot quite describe, is very handsome. He seems an old soul in a youthful body, though Wesker shakes off that thought. Such things had tempted him before, and that was yet another reason he was here, in this church and small place full of pagans.

“No.” the voice is clear, serious, and gets Wesker to frown as the man goes back to his brief examination for the entryway before looking back at Wesker and tilting his head. “You’re new here.”

“I was recently assigned and given this place to rejuvenate. Apparently the locals have gone back to their old ways while no one was here. I’m to set things up for Mass on Sunday.” He does his best to not sound too excited - all of that was going to just be for him, and probably a few people who might still believe here. At least Marcus would be dead soon, and he could instead hope for some time for his own work. “Will you join us?”

The man blinks, as if confused, turning a bit more so Wesker can fully take in the muscular body, the tanned skin, the dark hair full of leaves and mussed up, almost feathery in a way, the pants that seem almost tight in all the right areas, the bare feet that moved, as if for purpose, on the stone entrance.

“Maybe,” the man finally replies, getting Wesker’s eyes to move up to the blue-brown ones as he offers a smile that couldn’t be anything else but sinful in it’s promise. “Unless you’d like to speak to me of faith now?”

“I’ve work to do,” Wesker said, not about to allow himself to be tempted...not yet. The man was handsome enough, lovely enough, and his toothy smile only sent a shiver down his spine, reminding him that he might be watched here as well. Who knew where the Church’s men were? “I don’t feel up for any such talks.”

“More’s the pity,” the man said before finally saying, “What might we call you then?”

“You may call me Father Wesker. All the others will, when we start. I’ve much to do, so…” he made a shooing motion as the man chuckled and left, not bothering to close the doors as he did.

\--

Late at night, Wesker wakes up to the sound of hoofsteps in the stone hall. He walks out from his room, wearing only his robe half-closed - why should he hide his nakedness from whatever animal has gotten into the church? - before he stops at the doorway, surprised at what he sees.

It’s the man from before, only he’s different. His feet are bare still, but now instead of feet, deer-like hooves hold him upright. His skin is patterned like the stag that Wesker saw before, darker in the moonlight coming from the doorway, and parts of him are still human, but others are coated in a fine fur. Out of his mess of hair grows the same pair of antlers that the stag had been cleaning or sharpening before leaving at Wesker’s interruption. Wesker finds himself blushing suddenly when he realizes the man - fae - is naked, his human-like cock already hard and rubbing against the soft cloth he’d laid out so it would not smell so stuffy. Wesker  _ thinks  _ ‘human-like’, because he had never seen one quite so long, curved, or perfect.

He does his best to quiet his thoughts and himself, but the presence of the fae and his nakedness drives out any other thoughts of piety. The fae is muscled and more human than stag - even the normally delicate and small hooves are larger, powerful, and dangerous. Wesker watches as one creates a long scrape against the stone floor as he hears the man huff, sounding almost pained and under stress. He watches as the fae briefly rubs against the cloth a few times before letting out a snort, moving to lean over the altar and huff, as if breathing onto it. Seeing the muscular arms holding the man up, spread as if someone was under him and not simply a stone altar, back arching, fur starting to stand up as a bit more appears along his neck and back. For a brief moment, more of his head and and shoulders appear like that of the stag, and despite it all, seeing that change, only to watch it slowly turn back to more human, even with the horns and hooves, is...beautiful. He’s grateful he didn’t allow the hunters to trap this one, that it apparently followed him here to do whatever it is doing.

He wants this fae, and he wants it for himself.

The fae stops, moving to stand, antlers making it far taller than before, then turns to look over at something or someone at the door. He hears it let out a chuckle before walking out, the moonlight displaying its sweat-sheened, naked body for Wesker to see down to the smallest detail, before it walked out the door and was gone.

\--

Wesker doesn’t see the man again until the day after Mass. He takes most of the days since he’d seen the fae to set up his equipment and other items, hoping to catch the fae in his church again.

Honestly he’s a bit curious about the type of fae and what it was doing to the altar and the cloths he’d put out. None of them are for the altar specifically, but instead for some of the inner offices. Wesker wasn’t about to chase away something he could use, especially for knowledge.

The rest of it...he’s not as sure about. Not because of his occupation, nor because of some translation of the Holy Book. No, he simply is not sure what the fae wants with him, nor is he about to make any sort of work that could potentially result in something that could backfire on him. He’s not about to get into some sort of trouble like before.

So he’s a bit surprised when, as he cleans up the altar and sets up a few of the candles, readying it for the coming night, he hears a sound like hooves on the stone. When he turns, the fae is there, but once more looking like a man. He’s still got twigs and leaves in his hair, though they’re not the same as before, and Wesker frowns at it. The man’s figure is handsome, but now that he’s seen him naked, some part of him can’t help but blush when he notices the slight bulge near the trousers.

“How was your sermanizing to the people, Father Wesker?” the taunt brings him back to present, getting Wesker to frown at him.

“It went well, though I’m sure you know that already.”

“Oh? And how would I know that? You think I’m your Lord?” the way it was said, the look to the candles and altar, the reminder of what Wesker had seen this fae doing, gets Wesker to blush even more. Something in the tone is near blasphemous, and that almost excites Wesker in a way that science and the lost knowledges never had.

Wesker does his best to focus as he looks over at the man before saying, “Are you done? I have things to do in order to keep up this church, and then I must wake up early.”

The man offers an apologetic smile before walking into the church, looking around. “You’re quite strange, for a priest.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, staying near the altar. He’s not hoping for protection from the cross or any other holy symbols, as so far the fae has not offered up any threat to him or his small church. He also doubts he’d be much of a threat to the fae as is - it’s big enough to be human and able to speak without riddles, and as well, it’s walking into the church easily, and had...well, had done what it did...on the altar with no ill consequences, as he could see. He supposes he’d simply need to figure out what it knew, especially of the area, and use that.

“You should,” the fae says, walking closer as Wesker notices some of the pews seem to be changing it, as if the forest was intruding into the stone church. 

Wesker is beginning to think he should’ve gotten something for protection, but he’s also beginning to feel almost aroused by the danger there could be. It’s a new sensation - he’s never been aroused like this. He’s been the one in charge before, he’s always been the one with power, but now he backs up, hands going back to the top of the altar behind him, opening up his body to the fae. The thought of running briefly crosses his mind as he sees horns begin to show, the vest and pants also all but shedding to become more like fur. Instead of the hooves from the last night, his feet remain human, stepping purposely along the stone floor. At the same time, the changes are less stag-like and more like the images of horned pagan deities he’d seen on broken pottery and hidden effigies during his time working with Inquisitors. Red designs slowly move down his forehead, blue-brown eyes changing to darker, more like that of a stag, but filled with lust as they rake over Wesker’s body. Wesker nearly jumps when the door closes, the long bar falling down to lock it as the fae...thing...smiles at him, a feathered cloak falling down from his shoulders as he reaches the stairs up. “You seem surprised.”

“I’m...what are you?” Wesker’s surprised he’s able to speak as the fae walks up, tilting the antlered head a bit as he reaches over to loom over Wesker, which is odd because they’re nearly the same height, though the antlers now give him some advantage. The fae is large enough that when he puts his arms around Wesker’s body and leans down, forcing Wesker back and onto the altar. He briefly realizes that this is the same position he’d seen the fae on that night, only now he’s the one on the table, not the cloth. The fae is as naked as before, cock pressing up against Wesker’s leg and up to his own hardening cock, grateful for his robe and underthings hiding his own lust, even if his body and eyes are betraying him.

“You really want to know, Father Wesker?” the fae’s breath is hot, dark eyes looking over him as one hand moves over, hand going to Wesker’s waist before moving down to trace along Wesker’s hips, pulling at the frock to make it hike up. Wesker can’t think of a protest, the memory of  that night making him flush at the thought of being used like the cloth had been. He’s sure that the thought of the act, even allowing such a thing here, had gone from blasphemous to something else, but at the same time, the memory of the fae’s cock only makes him harder as the antlered being moves a bit more, hand gripping Wesker enough to pull his leg up and get the priest onto the altar, warm hand moving up under the dark outer layer and easily along his skin and up along the few undergarments he has. “Would that change what you want? Would it change what we’re going to do?”

“What  _ are  _ we doing?” Wesker mutters, trying to keep his cool, though he’s flushing with lust, all but lying down under the...fae...as he leans down under him, the fae’s smile wicked as he pushes more of the outer clothing out, parting Wesker’s legs and frock before leaning down to mouth along the outline of Wesker’s cock. The priest moans in annoyance and pleasure at the touch, looking back as the fae-man moves up. One hand goes up to grab one of the antlers, finding them solid and hard. The fae lets out an aroused growl leaning down to kiss Wesker deeply, tongue quickly going in to dominate Wesker’s mouth as the other hand moves to grab Wesker’s thigh, pulling him further up on the altar as his hips push against Wesker’s, the pace slow and deliberate, a long stroke against Wesker’s ass with promise that should make him demand something else, but the long kiss and power behind the man makes him not quite able to protest. 

The bastard hasn’t even answered his question!

“I’d think,” the fae mutters as he breaks the kiss before pushing against Wesker in another long stroke that ends with their cocks aligned, Wesker panting for breath as his body begs for more, “you wouldn’t need me to explain it all.”

Wesker glares at him, leg moving to pull the fae closer to him as he tightens his grip on the antler he’s still gripping. “I don’t think you should play around with me,  _ fae _ .”

The man’s nostrils flared in anger as Wesker smirked, enjoying the hold that feels like it gives him  _ some  _ power, though he’s still laid out on the altar and his own cock is just as hard as the fae’s own. He’s not surprised when the fae moves to push him down, the move against his hips and cock getting his legs to pull the fae’s muscular body closer, the stag-like fae making a sound of anger and lust as his hands move to pull off Wesker’s undergarment, tearing it them a bit  before his hands knead Wesker’s ass, one hand moving up higher to Wesker’s back as the other comes up, the man turning to spit on his fingers before they quickly go back to Wesker’s ass, tracing his hole and slowly pushing in.

Wesker hisses at the burn, legs going around the fae’s waist as it worked him open, slowly moving into his body, the spit lasting far longer than any human spit would as it went in, his other hand going up to the fae’s back, the hand on the antlers twisting and shuddering as his hips begin to move. The fae pants as well, long cock moving against Wesker’s own in time with the fingers opening up Wesker. 

“Who are you calling a  _ fae _ , my priest? Or are you so blind you don’t know a god,” the fingers disappear only briefly before the man pulls back, lines up, and pushes into him in one go, “when you’re being fucked by one?” Wesker’s head went back, panting in disbelief from the pleasure and implication as the man - god, fae,  _ being _ \- begins to push into him, working hard and fast. Wesker’s cock bobs between the two bodies as the being leans down, all but rutting against him as he kisses and nips hard along Wesker’s chin and near his neck, antler clattering against the altar as the being continues to pushing into him, hands wandering to find the best area to grip Wesker, moving him so each stroke hits a spot inside of him that sparks pleasure into him. Wesker keep his hold on the antler, not wanting to let go, as he tries to keep some control. His legs quickly go around the being’s hips, doing his best to hold onto whatever he can as the being takes him, hands bruising as they hold him still as Wesker tries to keep himself together, or at least push back at something.

The being lets out another lustful sound, this time more like a purr, as he pants out, “You like this, Father? Like having me in you, granting you ecstasy of a god?” the being lets out a lustful chuckle as he continues to push in, the pace making Wesker scrape back against the altar as he looks back at the stag-man, feeling his orgasm starting to get closer. “Should we bless this altar together?”

The blasphemy should have broken his pleasure, brought him back, but instead he only finds himself even more aroused by the idea. He can’t be sure if it’s the power or the implication - of being used by some powerful being to ‘bless’ anything, being granted anything from a being of power, who was pulling him closer and closer to the end of pleasure that Wesker can only pant and gasp, white-knuckling the antler as he holds on. The god-being shakes his head, as if to dislodge Wesker’s hand, as his hips began to stutter, signs that he’s close as well. 

Wesker’s other hand moves to holding the other antler as he rolled his hips in time with the god’s thrusts as he pulls the god’s head up, holding it still as he kisses the god deeply, fighting for some form of dominance in this. The surprised look, the low moan into Wesker’s mouth, and the sudden sparks of pleasure gets Wesker to gasp as he’s pushed over the edge, body spasming as he cums, the god’s head moving to lay his forehead against Wesker’s, warmth flooding into him as the god moans deeply against Wesker’s lips, grip tightening briefly. Wesker guesses that he’ll have bruises down his hips and legs by the end of this. 

The god-being grinned as he shifts Wesker a bit on the altar, moving up as Wesker keeps his hold on the antlers, hoping for some control, as his hips are lifted up a bit. Wesker flushes when he realizes that despite orgasming, his dick is still hard and solid in Wesker.

“Best hold on, Father,” the god says, a bit breathless but cocky as ever, “I’d hate for you to lose your grip on the situation.”

“Your...hold...is just...as strong,  _ fae _ .” He enjoys seeing the anger there, smirking at it as he pulls himself up, off the altar and forcing the god’s hand to go up to his back, pushing the god’s cock deeper into Wesker. He’s not at all surprised when the god starts pushing up into him, Wesker’s forced to hold the antlers tightly, lest he be thrown off the bucking being he rode. It doesn’t take long for his own cock to get hard between their bodies, the sweaty movement against skin and fur and cloth, not to mention his own mortal weaknesses, making him barely last as long as before. He nearly lets go as the god relentlessly pounds into him, kissing along his neck and chin, nipping his lips before kissing him deeply, and driving Wesker over the edge twice before shuddering himself, pushing deeply into Wesker twice as warmth sweeps through him, some splattering on the floor below. 

Wesker’s panting hard as he feels the god shake his head again, holding him up and whispering into Wesker’s ear, “You think you hold me long enough, you’ll get to keep me? Still think I’m a fae, Father?”

Wesker paused, panting and catching his breath from the stimulation, the licking and nips on his skin making him shiver and lose his train of thought. Still, the hold and feel of antlers are grounding enough that he pulls back and smirks at the god holding him up, hard dick still twitching in his ass.

“Isn’t that how it works? I hold on long enough, I can keep you?”

The god snorts before leaning in, putting him back on the altar before growling out, deep and sultry, “You’d better hold on then. I’m not going to be caught so easily.”

Wesker will refute that he  _ whined  _ when the god’s dick pulls out of him, but the self-satisfied smirk on the god’s face gets him to glare as he watches the god move down the length of his body, stopping to kiss along his thighs as they trembled, lapping a bit at the cum still staining their sides in places. Wesker holds on, shuddering at the feel, adjusting his hold so it’s not straining his arms with how far down the god is on his body. His cock twitches again, getting Wesker to groan a bit as it slowly starts to get hard. The god chuckles, breathing on it and licking along the length, the organ growing quickly in his ministrations.

It would be Wesker’s luck that he decides to anger a local fertility god. But he’s already so far in it he doesn’t really have any other choice but to try to keep his grip, watching as his erection returns quickly under the kisses, licks, and hot breath of the god, balls tightening as the god fondles and caresses them, painting his cock with cum still dripping from Wesker’s used hole with his fingers. Wesker’s arms shake from holding on, wanting to grab the god’s hair as he leaned down to take Wesker’s now-hard length into his mouth, one hand holding the base while the other held one of Wesker’s thighs, parting them easily as he shifted, lifting him up only a bit as he began to bob and suck. 

Wesker’s head goes back as he moans in pleasure, pulling lightly on the antlers as they move with each bob of the god’s head, his arms shaking in the need to let go and touch elsewhere, to grab at other parts of the god and feel the movement of muscle and skin, to feel the feathery, sweaty hair, or even grab the hands and have something solid to hold onto. But his stubbornness makes him hold a bit harder onto the antlers, the feel of it grounding, even as the god works to lick, suck, and swallow Wesker’s cock to  _ near  _ the point of release, only to pull or squeeze somewhere and stop the release right before it came. Wesker pants and moans each time, shaking his own head as he sees the lustful god smirking triumphantly before going back to start again.

The god licks a long stripe after the third denial, chuckling a bit when Wesker pulls angrily at the antlers in frustration. “Oh? Do you want something, Father?”

“I’d...I’d think...a god…” Wesker hates that he’s panting as he says this, but pushes it out after gulping down more air to clear his head, “would know what someone in their flock wants.”

The god’s dark eyes seem to shift a bit, looking now more like innocent blue ones that lock onto Wesker’s own. “Are you counting yourself as part of my ‘flock’, Father? Won’t your own Lord be a bit upset with that?”

“Shut up,” Wesker growls, though he enjoys seeing the blue eyes looking up at him, teasing the head of Wesker’s cock at his obvious upset, a wicked grin on his face. “You’re the one…” the god swallowing his cock down, humming and getting Wesker’s hip to jerk, stops his train of thought. His hands nearly let go, but he manages to hold on as the god works him straight into ecstasy again, this time swallowing his cum down easily as Wesker shivers, gasping in breaths as he tries to hold on. He watches the movement of the throat as it takes in Wesker’s seed, blushing deeply at how it looks. The god lets Wesker’s cock go with a slight smack of his lips as he moves back over Wesker, large body looming over him. 

“What was what you wanted to say, Father?”

Wesker manages as weak glare as the god pushes along his flaccid cock, rubbing his own hard, long one against Wesker’s quivering stomach. The god shifts, moving one hand to reach up and undo more of Wesker’s stained frock and clothing, pulling it open to lightly touch and tease his sensitive, pale skin. Wesker’s grip falters as more pleasure sparks through him, though his cock fails to respond, whole body shaking as it turns simply into pleasure response. Any touch, kiss, or move from the god throws Wesker’s mind off whatever he said, and his grip onto the antlers, at this point, is because he can’t think of anything else to do. He’s pretty sure at least once he starts to mutter something in Latin - a way to banish the god tormenting him, or even just verses, he’s not sure - but it only gets the god to kiss him deeply, tongues fighting for dominance as his hands and hot body rubbing along Wesker’s exposed skin, fingers finding and pulling at Wesker’s chest and nipples, getting Wesker to moan into the god’s mouth, body undulating up and against the warm body above him. He can barely  _ think _ , the only instinct to be for him to  _ hold on _ , to keep hold of the hard antlers in his hand, his body shaking at the weak orgasm before he feels something onto his chest and stomach. The realization he’s so coated, so thoroughly  _ claimed  _ by this god over his own, and the base  _ idea  _ that he had gained so much  _ pleasure  _ from it, finally pushes him over the edge to unconsciousness.

\--

Redfield snorts a bit as he slowly starts to stand, the hands of the priest caught up in his antlers still, despite the sleeping man below him. That was far too lovely, and he wants to keep the priest, see if he can just have him as  _ his  _ priest, but that probably won’t happen. The Lord of the area believes in the God from far away, like many others, and his believers and rituals, while still being carried out, have to be done in secret. So it’s better to keep this one, but share him.

He’s shared mortals before, so he’s sure this one will be fine, so long as he’s careful. He can’t always bless the area, and the town already knows that the priest is  _ his _ . That doesn’t mean he’ll be safe from others.

Redfield moves to slowly pick up the priest, carrying him easily into the rooms where the cloth he’d scented before is, then into a small room with a bed. Attempting to pull his antlers loose don’t work either, and Redfield chuckles, shifting to arrange themselves on the small bed before nuzzling the sleeping priest.

“Fine, you can keep me.”

He sees the apparently half-asleep priest smirk, then remove one hand to pull the god closer before fully falling asleep. Redfield blinks, surprised, then chuckles again before willing his antlers gone, releasing the other hand, and moving a bit before they grow back.

Well, who was he to stop something so  _ fun? _


End file.
